STAND: Schizoid Man

USER: Jason Ollander 'Jojo' Joestar (17 years old)

POWER: B SPEED: B RANGE: E (2 meters)

STAYING: B PRECISION: C LEARNING: A

ABILITY: Shoots darts from its palm which allow the User to

'borrow' any one of the target's senses. This ability's full

range of applications has yet to be explored.


Behind The Knife (2)


Blood trickled from Jason's leg wounds as he stood before his opponent. He clenched the muscles in his thighs in an attempt to steady them. Schizoid Man hovered in front the boy, ready to absorb whatever attack Big Sis was preparing. He wasn't sure where she would strike from, or even if there were more than one of her. As the sting of his cuts grew worse so did his resentment. He no longer saw Big Sis as a civilian or a woman. She was just an enemy.

Big Sis and her Stand both vanished. Behind the spot she was standing was one of her knives, embedded halfway into the ground. As Jason turned to find her he felt a fist slam into the base of his neck. New pain ran down his back as the blow knocked him forward, and his knees shook as he struggled to stay on his feet. Schizoid Man swung the back of its fist toward the source of the attack with an impassioned 'ORA!' It hit nothing but air. In his peripheral vision he saw Big Sis leap backward with her Stand in tow, but when Jason spun toward her she was gone. Again a knife marked the place where she once stood.

Jason felt a foot bury itself into the back of his left knee. He gritted his teeth as his knee gave out. Schizoid Man's subsequent attack was just as futile as the last one. The boy listened for footsteps but Big Sis made no sounds to give away her location. It's always a single strike… he mulled as he gradually stood back up. If there was more than one of her, why wouldn't they all attack at once?

He glanced about, not to try and find his aggressor, but to see where her knives were placed. They were in a perfect diamond, equidistant from one another, and Jason was right in the middle of them. Jason lifted his head to speak.

"You're teleporting, aren't you?"

Another blow struck him from behind, again targeting his injured knee. He barely managed to stay upright. "That's why you've stopped cutting me, right? You're not attacking with those knives anymore because you need them where they are. You're warping from knife to knife. That's your ability."

Again Jason felt a punch, this time aimed at his left temple. While reeling from the blow he caught a glimpse of Big Sis' Stand as it retracted its arm. His eyes followed it as it returned to Big Sis. Instead of warping away she put a hand to her hip and smirked. "You think you've got me all figured out, huh?"

"Yeah, I do." Derision entered Jason's words as he gave her an icy stare. "You're a stubborn punk who won't listen to reason." Schizoid Man raised a fist. "So I'm gonna beat it into you instead!"

At once Big Sis' smirk shifted into a scowl. "Awfully cocky for a trapped rat!" In the blink of an eye Big Sis vanished again.

Jason straightened his back as best he could. "She's set up her knives so that I can only see one at a time! I have to get out of her 'zone'!" He tried to run but his legs could barely carry his weight, and the best he could manage was a limping walk. Moments later a kick plowed into Jason's legs, sending him to the ground. With a grunt he attempted to rise, but it was all he could do to make it to his knees. Dammit! She's injuring my legs so I can't get out!

"Yeah yeah! Get him, Big Sis!" The man with the mohawk yelled his support from the sideline.

Big Sis revealed herself, warping to the knife directly in front of Jason. "Don't bother! You're on a leash! You can only go where I let you go!"

With a yell Jason sent Schizoid Man flying toward Big Sis, but she teleported just as the Stand threw a punch.

"Do you feel it now?" This time her voice came from behind. "Scared? Alone? Taken away from everything you know? Do you feel like your prisoners feel?!"

Blows rained upon Jason in quick succession, each one from a different angle. All of them went unpunished by Schizoid Man, his counterattacks always a second too late. By the end of them Jason was sprawled out on the street, unmoving save for his labored breaths.

"Serves ya right! Beat him some more, Big Sis!" The man with the buzz cut shouted.

Again Big Sis appeared before Jason, looking down at him with stony eyes. It took great effort for him to return her gaze.

"Do you get the point yet? You can't beat me." Her boiling rage had been replaced with a cold animosity. Perhaps wailing on Jason had abated some of her anger. She crossed her arms. "Now give up and tell me where you're keeping your prisoners. I want every location. Do what I say, and once we confirm that you're not lying I'll let you go."

Though every limb on his body felt as heavy as rock, Jason managed to pull himself up. Sitting on his knees, he stared at Big Sis in icy silence.

"Either you cooperate with me, or my 「STATION TO STATION」 is gonna keep pounding you until you do." Station To Station crossed its arms to match its User. "So save yourself some trouble and just tell me."

"I HAVE told you. I told you that I'm gonna beat reason into you."

The look of utter vehemence on Big Sis' face was as sharp as her weapons. "You little smartass! Try threatening me again when you're on death's door!"

Schizoid Man raised its palm. This is my only chance! I have to get a better vantage point! A dart flew out of the Stand's palm, aimed at Big Sis' stomach. She looked surprised, but once the dart was mere centimeters from her body she warped away. Schizoid Man began firing wildly, each dart traveling in a different direction. Big Sis continued warping from knife to knife, managing to evade every dart.

"You think that's gonna work?! Even without warping, my Station To Station could still dodge those things! Even if they were as fast as bullets, you'd still never hit me!" Her declarations came from all around Jason as she warped again and again.

Schizoid Man lowered its arm. Jason was done trying to hit her.

Big Sis warped to the knife in his line of sight. "I gave you a chance! Now I'm gonna beat you until you beg for mercy! If I have to I'll spend all night teaching you over and over that you dogs will NEVER set foot in my neighborhood!"

Suddenly an air of serenity fell over Jason. He smiled.

"What the hell are you grinning about?! Don't you know when you're beaten?!"

The boy's expression didn't change one bit. His entire body relaxed as he spoke. "All my life I've had bad luck. I went to the doctor once for an x-ray; they got my chart mixed up and told me I had bone cancer. One time I won $500 dollars in a contest, and then I got mugged on the way home. And yesterday I got taken captive by the government on the one day I didn't take the bus."

Jason shifted his weight back and sat on the ground. "So when things go my way, I can't help but smile."

"Then smile all you fuckin' want! I'll wipe it right off your face!"

"No, you won't." Jason pointed a finger at his opponent. "You've lost. Your ability won't work on me anymore."

For a moment Big Sis looked utterly flabbergasted. "Wha…Are you MOCKING me?! You can't even TOUCH me! I'll prove it as many times as I have to!"

Big Sis warped to the knife on Jason's right. Station To Station flew at Jason faster than it ever had. It drew its arm back, preparing for a massive punch.

This time Jason could see it. He was using a different pair of eyes.

Before Station To Station could strike, Schizoid Man drove its fist into the enemy Stand's chest. Station To Station's momentum immediately stopped. The blow knocked it back.

Big Sis was sent flying at the same time. Blood escaped her mouth as she was sent through the air, a look of utter shock frozen on her face. She hit the ground hard several meters away from her knife. With haggard breath she painfully rose up, clutching her chest. She stumbled backward, her knees shaking as gravity fought her attempts to stand.

Jason approached her with Schizoid Man following close behind. Though his legs threatened to fold he managed to stay the course and didn't stop until he was about a meter away from his opponent. Big Sis yelled as her Stand lunged at the boy again. Schizoid Man answered the assault with another punch, knocking Big Sis back to the ground as her Stand disappeared.

"H-how?! How did you… counter me?!" She asked in astonishment through pained gasps.

Jason motioned toward her two lackeys, both of whom were wearing expressions of bewilderment and worry. "That one, the one with the mohawk. One of my darts hit him. Guess you were too worked up to notice. That let me see through his eyes. As long as I was in your 'zone', I was never able to tell where you'd attack from. So I had to 'borrow' the eyes of someone…"

"…Who wasn't in the 'zone'…" Big Sis finished his sentence in a mixed tone of dread and awe.

"Big Sissss!"

"We're coming!"

Both of her men starting to run toward Jason.

"DON'T! STAY BACK!" Big Sis screamed as she haltingly got up again.

"B-but… you're…"

"I mean it! Even if he kills me, do NOT attack him!" Her hazel eyes narrowed at Jason as she climbed to her feet. "Leave them out of this! This is between you and me!" Station To Station reappeared, ready to continue fighting. "You're not setting foot in Montblanc, no matter what!"

For a brief moment Jason felt something like respect toward his opponent. That feeling was quickly swallowed up by anger.

"You really are… a STUBBORN PUNK!"

Schizoid Man unleashed a barrage of punches, each one crashing into Big Sis at dizzying speeds.

"ORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORA!"

She flew through the air once more and hit the ground with a thud. Though the rest of her body was unresponsive, she slowly wrenched her head up to look at Jason. "Y…you…" That was all she could choke out before she fell unconscious.

"No, Big Sis!"

Her two lackeys bolted to her side. The man with the buzz cut knelt down beside her and tended to her, taking a rag out of his pocket and wiping the blood from her wounds. The man with the mohawk turned to Jason and clenched his fists.

"E-even if I don't h-have a Stand… I don't care what Big Sis said! I'm n-not lettin' you get away with this!" His voice shook as he made threats, but his body language conveyed a willingness to follow through with them.

Jason said nothing. His anger quickly subsided. He picked up his duffel bag and walked around them. The whole scenario started from a misunderstanding, and he had no intention of making it worse than it already was. The man with the mohawk moved to block his path, but the man with the buzz cut waved him down, and he joined him in assisting their boss. Jason didn't look back as he exited the scene.


The soothing tones of crickets gave way to the sounds of traffic as Jason entered Montblanc. A disjointed trail of street lights led the way, each one nudging aside the darkness with a dim glow. Slowly but surely he followed that trail. His legs paradoxically hurt less the more he walked. He had stopped at a closed store to procure first-aid supplies, leaving a $20 bill on the register as recompense. Either the bandages and disinfectant were working miracles or he was healing faster than he logically should. It doesn't feel like my Stand's doing this. Maybe this is just something Stand Users get, like a bonus.

Nonetheless he was exhausted, like he had just finished a ten kilometer run uphill. Though the thick cloth bandages did their part the blood loss was taking its toll. Occasionally he would veer off onto the road, though he was always quick to place himself back on the sidewalk. An oppressive fatigue began coating his body, making every building and sign seem to stretch on forever.

In time Jason reached the neighborhood proper, and was immediately reminded of why he hadn't been there in months.

The tail end of a crime scene was playing out not far in the distance. Police lights flashed as officers of the law stood about finishing their reports. Paramedics loaded a stretcher into their ambulance. On the stretcher was a twenty-something man in a hoodie, bleeding profusely from a bullet wound in his chest. He laid there unmoving and may well have been dead. The ambulance sounded its piercing siren, and within a minute it and the accompanying police cars were gone.

The pedestrians crossing the neighboring street acted as though the police and paramedics were invisible. None of them could be bothered to give the sight even the barest glimpse.

Montblanc, named after the most dangerous mountain in the Alps, is a neighborhood of deception. Boasting a population of around 44,000, many of its inhabitants are the descendants of French immigrants who had braved their way to America in search of wealth and opportunity. They brought with them their homeland's customs, and their unfamiliar art, food, and music helped the fledgling community grow as it attracted the curious. Over time gaudy buildings reminiscent of French Baroque architecture were bestrewn throughout, providing a piece of foreign culture for visitors and a comfortable familiarity for its founders.

However, as the neighborhood flourished it garnered the attention of the city council, who decided to use its allure to their advantage. The bolder establishments were quickly outnumbered by cheaper and more conventional attractions, which prompted an influx of new citizens that threatened to dilute the original community. In addition, Montblanc was ill-equipped to accommodate the brisk flow of new residents; unemployment, crime and overcrowding soon followed. Montblanc's founders began to fear that modernization would erase the image they had worked hard to establish, that their idyllic community was becoming little more than a resort. Animosity grew between the old inhabitants and the new, and eventually that animosity became segregation and violence. Even as the impetus behind the violence was lost to time, the hatred between the segregated factions continued to fester.

In the present day that hatred still lingers on. Though Montblanc has grown more opulent than ever and regularly attracts those seeking nightlife thrills, gang activity is at an all-time high, and Montblanc's homicide rate is nearly thrice that of Basinville's. In a way, Montblanc is much like the mountain it is named after, hiding corpses behind a glistening veneer.

Montblanc appeared to be untouched by the misfortune that befell Basinville. Scores of people littered the streets and walkways. Mostly young couples, their chattering almost overtook the nearby cacophony of car noises. Illuminated signs blinked in and out as they competed for the attention of potential customers. For every few people who disappeared into a nightclub or bar there were a few more that exited at the same time. It seemed as though these people hadn't a care in the world.

Wading through traffic as best he could on injured legs, Jason stood at the corner of Rue de l'Étincelle if the street sign was to be believed. He started down the adjacent street, aiming to get away from the majority of the crowds. Before he made it very far he espied three figures about halfway down the road. Half-hidden under hooded jackets, they turned to stare at Jason. Their collective glare seemed to hold physical weight as they stood unmoving, seemingly waiting for Jason to come closer.

Jason had abandoned his disguise along the way, as it seemed to bring him more trouble than it was worth at this point. It wasn't hostility toward the government that they exhibited; the 'vibe' of cold indifference he felt from them was a familiar one, the one he had felt from those who'd mugged him in the past. In his mind's eye Jason could practically see someone sneaking up behind him as he passed the next building, trapping him between four strangers who were itching to rob him, or perhaps do something worse. He considered letting Schizoid Man deal with them, but it occurred to him that one or more of the strangers might have their own Stand; if Big Sis had one, why not them? Maintaining eye contact until he had passed the corner, Jason backed away and took another path.

He paid little attention to the resplendent establishments lining the square, even as blaring music and sounds of merriment poured from them. He focused instead on the neon signs above him. 'Red Pole Club', 'Maison des Dés','Velvet Palace…' Near the edge of the extravagant square he found what he was looking for: a hotel. The Cassandra Suite made a mediocre effort to look exotic: cylindrical stone pillars lined the front of the hotel, holding up its four floors. Atop its summit were two statues of angels in flight, and the triangular roof had a swirling pattern carved into it that ran the length of the building. However, its utterly plain windows, simple black railing, and dull brown colored walls shattered the illusion, and the combined effect of its contrasting design choices just made it look disingenuous.

Once inside Jason approached the nearest receptionist, a red-haired gentleman with shifty eyes. After requesting a single room for one night, he was immediately answered with '$260.' He knew it was a rip-off, but he was tired enough that he didn't care. After parting with a sizeable chunk of his savings Jason retired to his room. He barely gave the room's amenities any notice. He threw down his bag and collapsed on the king-sized bed. Within minutes he drifted into a deep dreamless sleep.


The clock on the wall read '3:32' when Jason awoke. He was surprised to find that he could walk with nearly no problems, and assumed that 15 hours of sleep had done him some good. He glanced out the window and was greeted with another warm sunny day. The streets were still replete with pedestrians and vehicles alike. He passed a calendar as checked out of the hotel. 'May 6th'. Not quite summer, but the 80-degree weather and lack of spring showers seemed to disagree.

The teeming square vanished from view as Jason went deeper into the heart of Montblanc. The garish buildings became more and more plain as the crowds began to thin. There were no government officials to be seen anywhere, but their impact was still felt. Frightened whispers escaped the lips of the citizens as Jason passed them by. He began listening to their conversations with Schizoid Man, and found that most of them had heard what had happened in Basinville. They worried that Montblanc might be targeted next, and many of them conveyed their wishes to 'head to the Square and try to forget the whole thing.' One of them mentioned that 'maybe the chemicals didn't hit Montblanc?' but didn't elaborate any further. None of them knew anything particularly useful, and Jason eventually gave up trying to glean information from them.

Somewhere a large bell rang four times. Jason decided to get something to eat before planning his next move, and he ducked into a restaurant called Bird's Nest. The painting-laden establishment was brimming with hungry clients, and it took some time before he was seated. He ordered coffee without cream or sugar, but relented on buying anything else after perusing the menu. Even the salads are expensive! I gotta save my money… Out of the corner of his eye he saw a portly man in a suit messily devouring an expensive lobster dinner. Jason nearly salivated at the sight, and quickly thought of a creative use for his Stand. He shot a dart into the portly man, and soon after he tasted every morsel of lobster as though it was being crammed into his own mouth. It didn't diminish his hunger but it was gratifying nonetheless.

After three cups of coffee Jason left the restaurant, but as he circled around the building a stranger approached him. He was a lanky fellow in his early twenties, and he sported a disarmingly friendly smile. Curly dark hair stuck out from under his black bowler hat. His tight green jacket had three horizontal straps in place of buttons or a zipper, and small pockets rested on each corner and both breasts. Thin light khakis hugged his skinny legs, and his simple white sneakers made little noise as he casually strolled toward Jason.

"Excuse me," the curly-haired man spoke. "Did you hear about Basinville? I heard that the government basically took over the place."

"Yeah, I heard." Jason wasn't about to trust a stranger, but figured he might be able to get some information from him.

"I didn't want to think it was true, but it looks like people are being forcibly taken from their neighborhoods. I've been traveling around the city, and I've seen a few other neighborhoods that the government has been moving into."

"Really?" If that's true, then… things are gonna get a lot more complicated.

"Unfortunately, yes." The curly-haired man sighed and put a hand to his forehead. "I cannot fathom why they would do such a thing, can you?"

Jason shrugged, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. "Beats me."

"I simply wish there was something we could do about it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I can't dismiss this feeling I have. I feel as though they're planning something sinister. From what I've gathered, the people who have 'gone missing' in these areas haven't been seen again. For what reason would the government detain normal citizens? We are not in the middle of a war, and they have no reason to suspect us of any wrongdoing. No more than your average person, at least. So why would they be compelled to relocate us en masse unless they had some hidden plan?"

"…I'm not sure."

The curly-haired man placed a finger on the side of his lips. "I see. I don't mean to impose, but…" He leaned closer to Jason before continuing in a hushed tone. "…If I told you that there are certain people who are working to solve this problem, what would you say?"

Jason's eyes narrowed. "What are you getting at?"

The curly-haired man wore an insightful smile. "I am merely asking if someone with your…abilities… would wish to sit idly by while his city is taken from underneath him."

With a start Jason shoved the man away and summoned his Stand.

The curly-haired man seemed only mildly startled, and he straightened his jacket with a sigh. "Oh, mon Dieu. I didn't mean to offend you, nor do I wish to scuffle with you. So please, put away your Stand and sit with me. I believe that we can learn much from one another." The curly-haired man turned around and slowly walked to the wall of the restaurant. He sat down with his back to the wall and calmly waited for Jason's answer.

Jason reluctantly dismissed Schizoid Man. "I guess you wouldn't have turned your back on me just now unless you really didn't wanna fight." He joined the man on the wall, though he sat a couple of meters away just to be safe.

The curly-haired man put a hand to his chest. "My name is Enzo. What shall I call you?"

"Jojo."

"Well Jojo, before we begin…" Enzo rolled up his sleeves. "How about a magic trick?" Reaching into the pocket at his left hip he produced a playing card, the nine of diamonds. "Watch carefully!" He turned the card so that its razor-thin side faced Jason and then gently closed his hand, folding the card and hiding it in his fist. With a flick of his wrist he presented his open palm, and on it now rested a full deck of cards. Grinning, he took off his hat and placed it open-side up on the ground.

"One should always keep his hands busy," Enzo said cheerily as he handed Jason half of the deck. "Strength, grip, dexterity… all of these things should be maintained. The human hand is paramount in a multitude of activities, so it is important to keep it trained and ready at all times. Even the simplest of activities can help keep your hands in prime condition." Enzo began tossing his cards into the hat. Jason soon found himself doing the same.

"My associates and I are working to uncover the truth behind the government's actions. As I said, I've visited several neighborhoods and many of them share the same story: people are disappearing from their homes and from the streets. I've yet to find a common thread behind those who've went missing; they seem to be of no particular background, gender or age. I've a theory, but…"

"They're looking for Stand Users." Jason interrupted. "I'm one of the people who got captured. I managed to escape, but they almost hunted me down. Once they figured out that I had a Stand, they were prepared to kill me."

Enzo hung his head, looking despondent. "I feared as much. Truly Stands are a strange phenomenon, but… is their response simply out of dread?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Did you watch the news today? The mayor gave a speech earlier, urging Bolum's citizens not to resist the government. He said that an unidentified aircraft released some sort of chemical over the city, and that that's the reason behind what the government's doing."

Jason scoffed. "That's a lame-ass excuse."

"My question is why go through all this trouble to apprehend a few people, 'empowered' though they may be? I mean, they've essentially segregated the entire city."

"I've heard that they've got Bolum on lock-down, that they're not letting anyone in or out."

"I've heard the same, but I haven't been able to get close enough to the city border to tell. What worries me more is the fact that we aren't getting reception anymore. Have you tried to make a call to someone outside the city? They never go through. We don't pick up anything on TV or the radio either, except for local stations. They've effectively divorced Bolum from the rest of the world."

Something about the way Enzo worded his last sentence sent a shiver down Jason's spine. "When did all this start?"

Enzo scratched his head. "As far as I can tell, people started disappearing about two weeks ago. But I've heard that there have been government soldiers here for much longer than that. I'm not completely sure. I need more information. I don't know how or exactly why they're doing what they are. I simply don't know enough yet."

Before Jason could inquire further he heard music coming from one of Enzo's many pockets. Enzo held up a finger. "Excuse me, I must take this." He searched through his pants pockets in vain. "One moment, please." The music kept playing as he probed his jacket pockets. "Zut alors! Where could it…" Finally, he pulled a cellphone from his left breast pocket and answered it. "Hello? Yes, I'm back. I'm fine. Yes, they're in Yoruma as well. Yes, I'm on my way. See you there."

Enzo turned back to Jason with a hopeful gleam in his eyes. "Please allow me to reiterate: would someone with your abilities wish to sit idly by while his city is taken from underneath him? I would like you to join our cause. I believe that you could be a great asset to us. Our group is small, but we are becoming more powerful by the day. And I truly believe that one day…" Enzo revealed the last card in his deck, the ace of hearts. "…our hearts will be at ease again."

For a few moments Jason said nothing. He put a hand to his chin and gave Enzo a contemplative gaze. "Like you said Enzo, I just don't know enough yet. I want to believe you. I don't know why you would say what you have if you didn't honestly think it was true. But I don't know who I can trust yet. This has all happened so fast. One minute I'm walking home. The next I'm being shot at. The next I'm fighting street punks with superpowers. I just… don't know."

Enzo looked crestfallen. He silently reached into his hat and pulled out a single card. No other cards fell out of his hat when he put it back on. When Enzo glanced back up at Jason he had something strange in his eyes: a gentle melancholy, almost like pity. "Jojo, I can tell you are a very prudent man. But how long have you been running? How long are you prepared to run alone? When I fall I have comrades to lean on. When your legs break, who will be there to catch you? Can you lean on your prudence?"

Enzo's quiet but firm inquiry felt like an arrow going through Jason's heart.

Maybe he's right. I hardly ever see a reason to trust people. I always push them away. But trusting Donna and Sawyer is the only reason I made it out of the clinic. Maybe he's right. I don't know. Maybe I need to take that chance. Maybe he's right.

Jason cleared his throat. He found it very hard to meet Enzo's eyes. He stammered. "I…"

Maybe he's right.

"I…"

Maybe he's right.

"I don't…"

Maybe he's right.

Jason looked up. His consternation was gone. His voice was even. His answer was unwavering.

"I don't know much of anything anymore. But I do know that this is my best chance of finding out what's going on. So alright. I'm in."

Enzo grinned from ear to ear. "I'm glad to hear it, Jojo." He held out a hand. Jason took it and gave it a firm shake.

"Now let's be off. I'll show you our hideout. Come along."


Costeau Lane marked the location of the hideout. It was a dismal brick building, seemingly abandoned long ago. The small but untamed front yard looked as though it hadn't been tended to in months. The simplistic wooden fence was turning black at the edges and beginning to rot. The building looked unfit to house junk, much less people.

Jason put his hands on his hips. "Well, it's… inconspicuous."

Enzo chuckled as he led Jason through the fence. "It looks better on the inside." Strolling over to the door, he turned and knelt down beside the left window. When he went to pick something up from the porch it appeared as though his hand found nothing, but when he walked back to Jason he was holding a house key. It unlocked the door and they ventured inside.

It certainly did look better on the inside. They were in a fully furnished living room. Two large sofas sat side by side on the northern wall. A rather impressive looking television rested on a lacquered wooden dresser. The brown carpet below them had a minimal number of stains. A grandfather clock stood across from them. Two laptops lay on the floor near a toolbox. Several electric fans were strewn about.

From there they entered the kitchen. It had every convenience one would expect to find in a modern house. Everything from the oven to the dishwasher to the refrigerator looked new and in perfect condition. A few pots and pans were laid out, as if someone was preparing to cook dinner.

"Where did you guys get the money for this place?"

"Oh, you know. Here and there," Enzo answered slyly.

Another door led into a hallway, where another man was waiting for them. He was a large man, 200 centimeters tall by the look of him. His brown hair was cut into rows, with every second row cut much shorter than the ones around them. His grim, chiseled face stared down at Jason as Enzo led him through the hall.

"That's Sid. He's nicer than he looks."

At the end of the hall was the entrance to a bedroom. Enzo knocked on the door. "It's me! I brought Jojo!"

Murmurs could be heard from behind the door. A few seconds later a woman answered back. "Alright, come on in!"

Jason's blood ran cold when he heard the woman's voice. It can't be…

Behind the door was what used to be a bedroom. The bed and most of the other furniture had been cleared out to make room for numerous black steel chairs. Sunbeams peering through the window were the only light source.

To the left were both the man with the buzz cut and the man with the mohawk.

In the center was Big Sis.

All at once an eruption of voices filled the room.

"YOU!"

Jason summoned Schizoid Man as the two lackeys drew switchblades. A baffled Enzo grabbed Jason, trying to hold him back. The lackeys started to move in.

"HOLD IT! Everybody chill out!"

Big Sis yelled loud enough to drown out everyone else. The man with the buzz cut motioned toward Jason with his knife. "But Big Sis, that's the guy that…"

"I know who he is, Roger,"

The man with the mohawk approached his boss, holding out his arms. "We can't let that…"

"Keith, I said chill."

Big Sis looked to Jason. A purple button-up shirt had replaced her battle-worn blue one. She was bruised in a few spots, but seemed otherwise healthy. Gone was her insatiable fury.

"I didn't expect it to be you, but calm down."

"That's rich, coming from you," Jason snarled. He didn't lunge at Big Sis, but he didn't relax his stance either.

"Look, I don't have any intention of fighting you again." Her cool tone was very off-putting to Jason.

"I don't know that I believe you."

"Why did you hold back?"

That question was probably the last thing Jason expected to hear her say.

She continued on in a calm voice. "You had me. Your Stand is strong. You coulda beat me to death if you'd wanted. But you didn't. Why?"

Even Jason wasn't completely certain. He had to mull it over before he could give an answer. When he had one, he finally dismissed his Stand. "Because we want the same thing."

A smile spread across Big Sis' face. The tension rapidly drained out of the room. "So that settles it. You were tellin' the truth. No government dog would've done what you did." She stood up from her chair, giving a quiet pained grunt as she did so. "So! You wanna join the group, huh?"

Jason gradually relaxed his muscles, but his miffed expression didn't change. "…Yeah. But don't try to sweep yesterday under the rug! You could've killed me!"

"You're right." Big Sis casually raised her hand and then immediately put it back down. "Sorry. My bad."

Jason stammered, both astounded and frustrated. "Wh-But…'My bad?!' You beat the shit out of me for nothing!"

Big Sis seemed mostly unperturbed by his reaction. "Oh come on, it was an honest mistake!"

"B-but I… tried-"

"I said sorry! What else do you want me to do?" Crossing her arms, she took on an accusatory tone. "You're not the kinda guy who holds grudges, are you?"

She strolled over to Jason, who was still struggling to come up with a full sentence, and dropped a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it, we're cool now! I beat you up, you beat me up, we're even." She grinned as she pointed to herself. "My name's Aaliyah. Call me Big Sis if you want. I'm waitin' on a couple other guys to get here, so until then make yourself at home!"

As Aaliyah, Enzo and the two lackeys congregated on the other side of the room, Jason finally managed to compose himself. "Alright, fine. If we're waiting, we can use this time to strategize. We should…"

"My girlfriend finally found her cat!" Roger exclaimed. "It went missing two days ago, and she was gettin' real worried!"

"I didn't know you had a girlfriend!" Aaliyah replied.

"Yeah, here, lemme show you a picture," Roger eagerly dug a phone out of his pocket and showed it to Aaliyah.

"Hey, she's pretty hot! Got some big ones too! Good for you, man!"

Is this… really the same woman from yesterday?

"So," Enzo spoke up, "I should get to making dinner. We still have the ingredients for lasagna, right?"

"Yeah, should be in the left cabinet," Keith responded.

"Lasagna sounds damn good! Put extra cheese on it!" Aaliyah shouted after Enzo as he left for the kitchen. She pointed at Jason with an inquisitive look on her face. "You like lasagna, right?"

Jason sighed.


NAME: 'Big Sis' Aaliyah

STAND: Station To Station

NO LONGER A THREAT


-TO-BE-CONTINUED-